


The Storm

by superfluffycool



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-11 12:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11148306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superfluffycool/pseuds/superfluffycool
Summary: Capetown, South Africa was hit with a major storm last week. Sam and Cait have some fun while they wait it out...





	1. Caitriona

Caitriona lit the last of several candles on their kitchen table and blew out the match. A thin line of smoke curled away from the bright flames. She was setting the table for dinner, as well as preparing for the loss of power. The news reported Capetown would get a large tropical storm that night and following morning and all shooting for the next day was cancelled.

She and Sam made arrangements, going grocery shopping with their cast mates and colleagues, as well as picking up other provisions: wine, candles, and...Sam ran off for a secret errand that he refused to share with her. He said it was a spooky surprise and promised he'd fill her in soon enough. 

The sky was already pitch black though it was still before sundown. A few small lamps illuminated the apartment along with the candles at the table. Caitriona was cooking up a tasty shrimp stir-fry on their (thankfully) gas stove while Sam was in the shower, readying himself for the night.

He entered the kitchen in a t-shirt and sweats, his hair damp and his body clean, "Mo chirdhe, that smells delicious." 

"Why, thank you dahhhling." He kissed her neck and embraced her from behind, careful not to interrupt her focus on the shrimp and vegetables in the sizzling wok. 

"Shall I open the wine?"

"Yes, please."

He left her and opened a bottle, the cork popping out with a satisfying plonk.

"Which did you choose?"

"The red. It's more fitting."

"For what?"

"For this spooky scary storm!" His accent was thicker for emphasis, and she giggled at his showmanship. He poured them both glasses and placed them on the table. "Are you afraid?"

The question wasn't sinister but Sam was grinning like a wicked Jack-O-Lantern as she came towards him with two steaming plates of food. 

"No. The only things that scare me are small with lots of legs."

"No ghosties or ghoulies, then?"

"No, I'm not like you!"

"We canna control the forces of the universe. They are bigger than we ken..." He dug his fork into a broccoli floret and attempted a nibble before continuing, suddenly serious, "I heard that there was a murder on the floor of this building."

Caitriona stopped and studied him, trying to discern if he was lying. "When was this?" 

"A few years ago. The doorman was telling me about it. Said it was a lover's quarrel and the woman stabbed her boyfriend to death."

"Hmm...sounds terribly scandalous." Caitriona took a gulp of her wine and continued watching him closely, waiting for him to get to the point.

"He said there are stories from tenants waking up to dark puddles of blood on the floor, but when they turn on the lights, there's nothing there..."

Despite her distrust, she was starting to get spooked.

"That's why I chose the blood red", he held up his glass to the candlelight, "I thought it fit better with my story." His grin returned as he took a sip.

"Sam! You are going to pay for this! That didn't really happen, did it?"

"Maybe..." He winked and continued eating. "This is delicious." 

Caitriona had an idea, and hoped she'd get a chance to use it later.  
..................................

After they finished their food and cleared the dirty plates, Sam ran off to retrieve his surprise.

The rain was light, but it blew against the dark windows and the wind produced howling noises between the buildings. They still had electricity, for now.

Sam reappeared with small paper bag and handed it to her. "Thought this would be perfect for tonight..." She opened the bag and found a copy of "The Collected Poems of Edgar Allen Poe".

Caitriona smiled, "How romantic and macabre of you, darling." She kissed him and gently ran the fingers of her free hand along the soft, delicate pulse in his neck. 

"I thought we could read them aloud. Something to do if we lose power." He slid his hands down to her hips and pulled her to him, "Well, it's one thing we can do..."

A loud rumble of thunder startled them. "We should enjoy the lights while they last, aye?"

Cait refilled their wine glasses and went to their bedroom to change into something more comfortable. She emerged in a thin t-shirt and a small pair of cotton shorts. Sam was already on the couch, having moved two candles and their wine glasses to the coffee table in front of him..

"Come" he patted the cushion next to him, "I've a poem for ye, mo leannan."

"Mmmmm, do you now?" Caitriona sat and draped a blanket over them. Before relaxing back onto the pillows, she slid her hand under his shirt, feeling the hard muscles there. He gasped.

"Cait, your hands are freezing."

"It is a bit chilly in here." Actually, she'd run her hands under the cold tap in their bathroom before joining him. She could be creepy, too.

There was another rumble of thunder, followed by a crack and a barrage of heavy rain against their windows. A howl of wind came and then--the few lights they'd kept on vanished.

"It's started..." Sam remarked, his face lit only by the light of the candles in front of them.

"Read me something! Can you see?"

"I can. Which should I pick..?" Cait was sitting with her legs over his lap and her torso against the side of the couch. The light blanket covered both their legs and made for a cozy, intimate atmosphere. 

Sam cleared his throat, 

"It was many and many a year ago,  
In a kingdom by the sea,  
That a maiden there lived whom you may know  
By the name of Annabel Lee..."

He continued, his vowels smooth and his consonants sharp. His drama school teachers would be proud. Caitriona found herself taken by the sad tale and almost forgot how irritated she was with him for scaring her earlier. Almost.

When he finished she leaned over and kissed him, "That was beautiful. Can I read one, now?"

"Of course, mo chirdhe."

"I'm going to read..." she paused to make a crude bird call.

"The Raven!"

"Nah...let's find something less popular..." She flipped through the slim volume and selected a short poem titled "The Valley of Unrest". She read it with a clear voice, discovering it along with Sam. 

"They weep:—from off their delicate stems  
Perennial tears descend in gems. "

When she finished, he reached his thumb to her bottom lip before leaning in to kiss her. She opened to him and he snatched the book from her and threw it to the floor. Within seconds he was on top of her, hungry for her flesh. He pressed her into the couch and his hands caressed her skin as they moved her t-shirt up towards her neck. Caitriona was pinned and losing track of her plan. His weight on her and his natural musk made her wet between her legs. She tried to press herself to him while thinking "Please let's make it to the bedroom." It was important that they did.

"Sam," she panted. "Let's get to the bed."

He paused, looking up from her bare breasts and sighed, "Whatever you want." He rose and offered his hand to help her up. She took it, and grabbed one of the candles from the table before they left the room.

"Blow out the other candle, love." 

He met her eyes as he blew it out, leaving them with nothing to see by except the candle in her hand. They maneuvered into the bedroom, Caitriona in front and Sam flush behind her with his fingers tucked into the back of her shorts.


	2. Sam

Sam had an odd sense of foreboding as he followed Caitriona into their bedroom. Was it the storm? The power outage? He shook it off and attributed it to the mournful poems they'd read and sounds of torment hitting their windows. Even the familiar space looked strange and menacing in the dim candlelight.

But Caitriona, the person he loved and trusted most in the world was here with him. He could never be completely afraid if she was near. He'd heard that being frightened also made you more aroused--which he was currently experiencing. After he finished reading the poem to her, his mind fluttered towards graves, lovers lost at sea, and the dark ever after that awaited all men. It made him pensive, but mindful that he, and his cock, were not dead yet and should enjoy every warm, inviting moment of carnal pleasure. Caitriona's lovely Irish voice reading the poem broke his heart and produced a stirring in his pants. He reasoned she had to feel as horny as he was, so he pounced the moment she looked up signaling the poem's end.

Why did she insist on going to the bedroom? They could have easily fucked right there on the couch (it was very comfortable). He paused and rose to follow her, concluding that the bed would be more accommodating, 

She removed the shade from the nearest side table so the candle could fit, and set it down in it's sturdy base. She turned towards him, beautiful and soft with her hair loose.

He moved to stand in front of her and she reached out, sliding her hands beneath his shirt, startling him again with their chill.

"Caitriona, are you cold?"

She didn't answer but pulled his shirt forcefully over his head. This was puzzling. He returned the gesture and yanked down her shorts as well, leaving her completely naked before him. Her hands were cold, but the rest of her was warm and he pressed her close. 

Before he knew it he was on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Caitriona had pushed him down and was now on top of him like a lioness, feeding off a freshly caught zebra.

"Mo leannan?" He could barely get it out. She was assaulting his mouth and clawing at his hair. He could feel her wetness rubbing against his abdomen and groaned, "Let me take off my..."

He tried to sit up but she pushed him back down and held him there, placing her hand against his neck, and continuing to grind against him. Something was clearly off with her. She was never flagrantly unresponsive, and he started to feel anxious. His erection strained against his sweats and he longed to be inside her, but he feared doing anything except letting her have her way.

Abruptly, she removed her hand and rushed to his waist, pulling his pants off almost as if they were tearaways and taking him in her mouth. He moaned, only dimly aware that the storm outside raged on. God, she felt so good! Her hands were still a bit cold and and as she caressed his hips and thighs she left goosebumps in her wake.

"Caitriona..." He moved his hand to her head and she smacked it away, increasing the force of her mouth. He was whimpering now, out of pleasure and a little out of fear. 

Suddenly, she stopped and disappeared below the edge of the bed. He sat up, curious, and she popped back into view wielding the largest knife from their kitchen and a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

He only noticed the knife and flew back, screaming and grabbing a pillow to protect his most delicate bits (shamefully, his penis won before his heart). She didn't move, simply held the knife up and cocked her head towards it. "That's what you get for scaring me, earlier."

It dawned on him that she was reenacting his own half made-up murder story from earlier. He'd been so stupid to think he'd scare her without a bit of retaliation. She opened the nearest drawer and placed the knife inside, closing it. "Now that's through..." She crawled towards him and wrenched the pillow from his hands. He gave in, but unleashed a torrent of feeling--anger, relief, desire. He pushed her into the mattress and grasped her wrists, stretching them away from her.

"Sam..." she gasped. Her legs were open and he let go of one of her wrists to place himself inside her. She was more than ready and when he began to move, her hips rose to meet his thrusts. 

"You'd never stab me" he hissed.

"Wouldn't I?"

"I wouldn't let you." He was getting close and panted into her neck.

"You would." Then she turned fierce, "and you'd like it." 

She was right. When he needed her, he thought he'd die if he couldn't have her. If she demanded blood for his pleasure, he'd surrender his largest vein. He came then, releasing her wrists and cradling her hips tight against his own. "Anything you want, Caitriona. Anything," he repeated as he spilled himself. She moaned and joined him in his release, tugging at his hair and tightening her legs around him.

Afterwards, they were still, limbs entangled, listening to the still raging storm outside. It had not abated in the least since the beginning of their erotic encounter. But the quiet between them remained as they gently stroked one another's bodies and drifted off to sleep. Their candle burned down shortly after. The dark swallowed them as the storm howled beyond the walls, and they rested.  
....................

"So the story isn't true?"

"Nah...well, it is, but no one died. Woman was arrested for assault. It wasn't a very sharp knife."

"Careful. You shouldn't give me any ideas." Caitriona sat at the kitchen table watching him whisk some eggs for their breakfast. "I'm sorry I scared you so much. I may have gone overboard."

"Hmm...maybe. It was a wicked surprised." He poured the eggs into the hot skillet. "It was wrong of me not to tell ye it wasn't true. It gave me a bit of a scare, as well! Thought maybe I'd been told the lie and you'd been possessed by the same man-stabbing demon." She giggled at that, which made him happy, and also a little nervous.

Their spirits were high after a restful night. He thought he should get a sound machine with storm effects for their bedroom at home. However, he wondered if their sexual encounter last night might make it more arousing than soothing...

"Oh, wonderful! It looks like the storm isn't as bad as they expected!" She was scrolling through her phone. "Says the weather tomorrow will be cool and sunny."

Thank God, he thought. After seeing Caitriona with a knife, he was eager to take her out somewhere nice. Maybe an art gallery? Maybe shopping? Whatever she wanted. He did not want to see her angry with him ever again.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> This story prompted one of the weirdest conversations I've ever had with a guy friend, "How do you pull a knife on someone during sex and then NOT have them call the cops on you?" His response, "Um...are they tied down?"
> 
> There's definitely some Freud in here and a play on the idea of sex being intertwined with death. It's proven that fear and arousal are very similar, which is why you should take your date to a scary movie if you want to get lucky. Anyways, I don't recommend you pull a knife on anyone during sex unless you have their consent!


End file.
